


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way out of the Pool

by Museohmuse



Series: Sterek Week 2K14 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Day 3, First Kiss, M/M, Sterek Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1853092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Museohmuse/pseuds/Museohmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'And then there were two, right?' Stiles said eventually. Derek's head shot up and he immediately frowned at Stiles. </p>
<p>'No need to look so happy, Eyebrows,' Stiles said mildly. 'I happen to be great company.'"</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>In which Stiles can't keep his mouth shut, Derek is in no way related to a Beyoncé song, and Scotty might be a clairvoyant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Funny Thing Happened on the Way out of the Pool

**Author's Note:**

> this entry for sterek week is late because this fic got the hell away from me but I loved writing this, so I'm okay with this! 
> 
> I apologize for the long title: I was desperate and thinking of musical theatre
> 
> still not beta read!

"Well, aren't you just a piece of shit?" Because of course Stiles' first words to Derek freaking Hale were filled with malice. 

But he was totally within his rights; if Derek Hale thought that he could just toss Scott into the pool and make him find his trunks like he was some kind of _freshman_ (which, granted, he totally was, but they were on the lax team as bona fide benchwarmers, they deserved better than that), he had another damn thing coming. 

"What the hell do you want, Stilinski?" Derek asked casually as if he wasn't at the scene of a crime. Derek stood carelessly in his swim trunks, looking like a goddamn male model in trunks that were too short and had to be suffocating his junk. Seriously, no other high school senior was rocking a rack like Derek was, even the ones packing on steroids, which Stiles thought was supremely unfair. 

"I want you to apologize to my friend," Stiles replied gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest because covering his dick would be too telling. 

Derek released a belly laugh that made him look surreally handsome and Stiles irrationally upset. "McCall can defend himself, Stilinski. He can do without his guard-dog." Derek's stupid posse got a huge laugh at that, and they absolutely fell apart when Scott finally pulled himself out of the pool, his swim trunks retrieved and safely on his body. 

Stiles, being the best friend he was, immediately rushed to Scott, making sure he didn't need his inhaler or anything. Scott collapsed against him, waving off Stiles' concerns with a strained smile on his face. 

"God, get a room!" Isaac, one of their teammates, cried out, eliciting another wave of laughter. 

"We would, but you and Derek wouldn't get the fuck out!" Stiles crowed, realizing as every word left his mouth what an awful idea it was to say anything. 

Isaac lunged towards Stiles, stopped only by Derek holding him back, but Derek's own murderous expression didn't bode well for Stiles' life span. Scott had Stiles' shoulder in a painful grip, not that Stiles was about to contribute in a fight with Derek Muscles-For-Days Hale. 

A sharp shrill from a familiar whistle rang through the space followed by "Boys!" broke the tension between the two groups. Finstock stomped towards Stiles and grabbed him by the ear, getting a squawk of indignation in return. 

"And what the hell is this, Bilinski?" Finstock growled, tugging on Stiles' ear while whipping his head around to glare at Derek and his crew. 

"This is physical harassment towards a minor student," Stiles replied through gritted teeth. 

"Yeah, yeah," Finstock said, shaking Stiles' ear before releasing it. "Now, I don't like to see my team fighting internally, so you'd better believe there are some suicides in your future." There was unanimous grumbling from both sides; all differences aside, no one was interested in shaving years off their life from running suicides. 

"Bilinski! Hale!" Stiles halted abruptly in his escape with Scott, tensing as he turned to see Finstock's smug expression. 

"If you think you're only getting out of here with just a couple suicides, you're a few more screws less than I thought." Stiles caught Derek's confused look and glared immediately. It was his damn fault anyway - it's not Stiles' fault that Isaac was emotionally comprised by his captain. "Detention, after school, today."

" _What_?"

"Coach, what about practice?" 

"Quit whining, and Boyd will stand in for you. You're great, Hale, but you're not necessarily irreplaceable." Derek looked like someone had gutted ten puppies in front of him, and Stiles couldn't help but feel embarrassed for him. 

Okay, and a little bit defensive. Because as much of an asshole he was, Derek knew his team - yes, even benchwarmers likes Stiles - and knew how to whip them into shape. He was calm on the field and efficient, and an actually perfect example both on and off the field, what with his solid grades, great personality. 

But Derek was still undeniably the biggest asshole Stiles had ever met. 

After Finstock disappeared with a flourish and a forbidding promise of what awaited Stiles and Derek during detention, Scott and Stiles made their quick escape in case Derek, Isaac, and the rest of their crew remembered what got them in trouble in the first place. 

"Dude, what the hell was that?" Scott said, shoving Stiles' shoulder when they stopped by his locker during the class change. 

"I think that was Finstock saving my ass from my first tussle," Stiles replied, exchanging his books for his final class. 

" _Tussle_ \- oh my god, you are such a nerd," Scott sighed heavily, trying - but failing - to hide a smile. 

"And thanks," he continued in a more somber tone. "For helping me back there. You didn't have to." 

"Please," Stiles scoffed. "I've had your back since I defended your honor against Lucy Patterson when she accused you of farting during her presentation in the fourth grade." 

"Whoever smelt it, dealt it!" Scott said, a wide smile on his face. 

"Amazing," a dry voice said from behind them. "And here, Allison, we see evidence that not all freshmen have shed their middle school skin." 

Lydia looked at Stiles and Scott like they were lower than scum, and Stiles wouldn't have wanted it any other way. 

"Well, well, is the Queen taking her new pawn on a stroll through her grounds?" Stiles sneered, taking in the unfamiliar face next to her, a sweet looking girl with dangerously innocent eyes. "Have the prey been receiving you well?" 

Stiles' and Lydia's relationship was one that continued to baffle him to this day. Once Stiles discovered early on that Lydia possessed more brain cells than she let on, he bugged her endlessly about being study buddies until she eventually caved. Lydia deigned to acknowledge Stiles in public only because they were each other's first kisses, and the Quadratic Formula Debacle in the seventh grade. 

"There are fresh pickings, as always," Lydia replied easily. "Take for example, Allison." The girl next to her smiled, waving her fingers in greeting. "She's moving here from somewhere tragically in the Mid-West." 

"Welcome to civilization," Stiles said. "So are you going to introduce me, Lydia, or will poor Allison have to awkwardly address me as 'Moles' when you gossip behind my back?" 

"As if you could make it into our conversation," Lydia scoffed. "Allison, this is Stiles, my only intellectual competition in our grade. Nothing else you learn about him has any value."

"Thank you," Stiles replied, tipping an imaginary hat." 

"And this is Scott, his long-suffering, and far more appealing, companion," Lydia continued. 

God, it was like watching worlds collide or something. Stiles had never seen Scott look so devastatingly idiotic in his _life_ \- and his focal point, Allison, didn't even seem to care.

"Hey," Scott said eventually, his smile growing impossibly wider. 

"It's nice to meet you," Allison replied shyly. 

"What have you done?" Stiles asked faintly. 

"I would ask you the same thing," Lydia replied, looking over Stiles' shoulder. Stiles glanced around and saw Derek Hale storming towards him with murder in his eyes. 

Stiles was never more sure that he was going to die in his life. "There will be witnesses!" Stiles shrieked when Derek was in ear-shot, nearly thrusting Lydia in front of him. 

"Stiles, you _imbecile_ ," Lydia snapped, smacking Stiles' head and shoving him off her. 

"Finstock wanted me to tell you that detention is going to be in the office," Derek growled shortly, then stomped away without another word. 

"Did that just happen?" Stiles breathed. "Am I seriously alive after that?" 

"You may be, but your dignity is not," Scott sighed, patting Stiles on the shoulder. Allison giggled at that, and it looked like Scott was radiating happiness. 

"Stiles, if you don't jump on that, I will," Lydia said, stabbing Stiles in the chest with her nail. Stiles could only gap at her as she looped her arm through Allison's and said, "The tour must go on, Ms. Argent!" 

"Good bye!" Stiles called dramatically down the hallway, gaining attention from exactly everyone. Lydia replied with a dainty middle finger in the air. 

"God, if I wasn't more in love with her," Stiles sighed. 

"Please, you have the most disgusting nerd boner for her," Scott said. 

"And a little bit of a real boner!" Stiles added defensively. 

"But you have more of a real boner for Derek?" Scott said with a disgusting leer. 

"Please stop forever!" Stiles cried, clapping his hands over his ears. 

Scott laughed, opening his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the warning bell. "I'll see you at practice?" he asked instead, starting to walk to his next class. 

"No, I've got detention, remember?" Stiles replied sullenly. 

"Look, think of it this way," Scott said. "A lot of great pornos start out this way, so you might be in luck!" 

Scott immediately took off, only reminding Stiles why he called that doofus his best friend. 

\--

The last period went by a lot quicker than Stiles anticipated (and he thought it was pretty damn hard to make a freshmen biology class fly by), and he found himself rocking back and forth between his locker and the office door. 

"What the hell, Stilinski?" grumbled Jackson, the reason why the term asshole was born, as he shoved Stiles against his locker. 

"Did I do anything to disturb you?" Stiles asked, his voice disturbingly pitched from working against his internal nerves. 

"Yeah," Jackson spat, " _breath_." 

"And yet another point for unoriginal come backs," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes. "This tally is not looking in your favor, buddy." 

"I am not your buddy," Jackson hissed. 

"Notice how you didn't acknowledge my previous statement," Stiles added with exaggerated wonder. "I think you've finally become self-aware, Jackson-bot!" 

Jackson lurched towards Stiles at the same time Finstock blew into his whistle, shouting, "Alright, ladies, let's see how much you'll disappoint me today!" 

Jackson snarled at Stiles, hitting him soundly on the arm before marching out. Stiles rubbed his throbbing bicep, fighting down nerves as he heard the locker room empty. 

"Good luck, dude!" Scott shouted at Stiles as he was ushered out by the wave of their teammates. 

The silence in the locker room was deafening, sending chills up and down Stiles' spine. He slowly made his way to the office door, peeking inside to see Derek hunched over in his seat, looking as if his pants held the secrets of the universe. 

"And then there were two, right?" Stiles said eventually. Derek's head shot up and he immediately frowned at Stiles. 

"No need to look so happy, Eyebrows," Stiles said mildly. "I happen to be great company." 

"And who told you that, your mom?" 

Stiles felt his expression freeze and Derek's face just fell. "I - I'm sorry," Derek muttered, head dragging. "That was really shitty of me to say."

"H - hey, it's no worries," Stiles replied once he was sure his voice would be steady. "I wouldn't respect you if you let a good jab at someone's mother go to waste for things like common decency." 

Derek winced, and Stiles just wanted to stop and erase the last five minutes - or just be kind and rewind and never ever stop. 

"You think you've had a bad instance of the foot-in-mouth disease?" Stiles chuckled awkwardly, taking a seat in the chair beside Derek. "Talk to me when you make the mistake of questioning how clothes look on Lydia Martin, then we'll start comparing war stories." 

Derek smirked, a highly appreciated change from the constipated indecision he was suffering before. "At least mine was warranted," he replied. "You should know better than to question Lydia." 

"Do I know better? Sure. Do I act on that knowledge? Absolutely not. It's the Stiles way, I can't fight my own nature." 

"That nature is going to turn around and bite you in the ass," Derek said easily. And woah, what was this? A conversation happening with Derek in which violent or frustrated words weren't being exchanged? Stiles wasn't sure what world he landed in, but he was definitely considering extending his stay. 

"Truth of the matter is, there are better things out there that could be biting my ass." Those words definitely just left Stiles' mouth. Those flirty, faux-innocuous words were in the air, unable to be retrieved, and Stiles was dead meat. 

But Derek just rolled with it, smirking dangerously, and said, "You never really know who goes bump in the night." 

Their easy conversation took a turn for the sexual, and Stiles had no idea how it got there, but he hoped it would stay the hell there for a long time. Naturally, the cards were not in his dick's favor and Finstock swept into his office like a whirlwind. 

"Okay, boys, since you've decided that your actions worked better than words, I'm going to make sure you understand just how important words can be." Finstock turned around and reached down, lifting a huge crate in his hands and slamming it on his desk before Stiles and Derek. 

"Here are the papers you'll be sorting by year, in alphabetical order." Stiles looked in horror at the disaster zone of papers, sheets hanging precariously out of the crate and others bunched together so tight, they might as well have been glued together. 

"And there is a lot more where that came from," Finstock added with glee. 

"Why do we even have this?" Stiles asked, his voice heavy with dismay and outrage. He would bet his life savings that Finstock had never once touched the papers in the crate since Stiles had been on the team - which, considering the amount of papers presented before them, half of a year was a long time. 

"So numbskulls like you two can learn a lesson," Finstock growled before making towards the doorway. 

"If you need me, don't!" was the last thing he said before exiting the locker room. 

"This is so dumb," Stiles said, glaring down at the crate like it had personally offended him. 

"It could be worse," Derek sighed. "We could be cleaning shit." 

Stiles shuddered, making a noise of agreement; he's used those showers and stalls, and he knew the shit (among other things) that has occurred in those spaces. Yeah, sorting irrelevant papers was sounding like a better option the more he thought about the grimy locker room. 

Derek and Stiles got to work, each taking piles of papers and sorting them individually before adding then back into each other's. They worked mostly in silence until Stiles suggested they listen to some music, and when Derek acquiesced, he pulled up his Pandora stations. 

"Are you feeling hipster, Classic 2000's, or top 40?" 

Derek frowned, pausing in his sorting to raise one of his endearingly thick eyebrows. "None of the above?" 

"Do you love yourself?" Stiles gasped, making Derek snort. Stiles played the Classic 2000's station because there were guaranteed hits on that station and Derek needed an intervention if that wasn't his first choice. 

A familiar tune picked and and Stiles started to sway his hips as 'Toxic' played from his phone. "Ah, the dulcet sounds of Britney!" Stiles said, grinning at Derek's disgusted look. 

"My sister Laura made me dance with her to this stupid song when it first came out," Derek grumbled, shuffling his pile aggressively. 

"I would have paid to see that," Stiles snorted, still wiggling to the beat (okay, slightly off) as he got back to work. 

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, eyeing Stiles like he was going into epileptic shock. 

"Getting my _groove_ on, what else does one do when Britney's on?" Stiles replied, shaking his butt for extra measure. 

Stiles thanked his lucky stars that his propensity for being embarrassed when he did something dumb around upperclassmen had been nipped at the bud during the first semester, when hazing was a thing for the new members of the lacrosse team. Those couple weeks made Stiles wish for death, or at least police intervention (though it was nice to be treated as an equal and not as the Sheriff's son), but he quickly stopped giving a shit when he was doing stuff like wearing a bedazzled pink tiara and saying he had it on because he was a "pretty pretty princess." 

"You look like I should be calling 911," Derek replied, dragging his eyes away from Stiles. If Stiles loved himself a little more, he would have convinced himself that Derek was totally checking him out. But that was a waste of time to entertain, and Stiles wasn't going to let Derek get in his head. 

"Cause I'm fire burnin' on the dance floor?" Stiles smirked. Derek looked at him blankly, and Stiles groaned, whipping his arms around. 

"You are _useless_ , Hale! Get educated!" 

"I am educated! On things that matter!" Derek replied, his eyebrows furrowed sharply. 

"And what, one Sean Kingston isn't good enough for your books?" Stiles snorted. "You probably listened to Seether and Linkin Park." 

"More like Daughtry and The White Stripes," Derek murmured under his breath. 

"Dude, no," Stiles gasped. "I saw Daughtry in concert a couple years ago!" 

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Derek snorted. 

"Probably not, considering I just made you insanely jealous of me."

"Jealous? Of you?" 

"You might be the all-star captain of our lacrosse team, smoking hot, and a nerd, but you don't have the Stilinski charm!" 

"I think I'll live without it," Derek said around a chuckle. Stiles made Derek laugh! Rejoice! Stiles wondered if that meant Derek would acknowledge him in public after this. 

"You think I'm smoking hot?" Derek said after a beat, the tips of his ears tinged pink. Which, oh God, Stiles was never ready for.

"That's all you got from that?" Stiles scoffed, determined not to acknowledge his flushing face. "Don't let it get to your head." He sat back down again, getting back to work while Maroon 5 crooned about how she will be loved and he ignored how Derek stared at him for like five minutes before returning to work. 

"Y'know," Derek started after minutes of music passed, "I guess I should apologize to McCall. Didn't realize how complimentary his guard dog would be."

"Oh, shut the hell up," Stiles laughed. "Besides, he's totally fine and mooning over the new girl, Allison, uh, Argent. She'll lick his wounds for you." 

Derek frowned, his body tensing noticeably before he said, "Argent? You're sure that was her last name?"

"Yeah, that's what Lydia said, and she's not wrong about most things, especially the names of her new prey. She even knows my real name, which is a very disturbing thought." Derek didn't relax after this confirmation, looking like he had swallowed a lemon. 

"Is everything alright with her?" Stiles asked. "Cause if not, I gotta order a cease and desist for my buddy sooner rather than later." 

"Probably not her," Derek muttered. "I just . . . had some shit with I guess a relative of hers." Stiles had to bite his cheek to restrain himself from asking what shit went down. A fight with an older brother? Sleeping with the mother? Derek never got into real trouble at school, so naturally rumors were rife about what he got up to in his spare time. Having his family camped out in the middle of the woods didn't help his bizarre reputation at all. 

Stiles nodded his head head excessively, hoping it showed he understood not to pry and not that he was a couple screws loose like Finstock said. 

"So!" Stiles said, trying to break the awkward silence. "Have you gotten a look at what we're sorting here?" 

Together they continued to sort out the papers, reading each one before putting it away. "Okay, okay," Stiles said, leaning against the desk next to Derek. "This one is a report from the custodial staff saying that Finstock's complaints about the weird toilet smells have been catalogued and - get this - they told him to consider using his toilet at home!" 

Stiles cackled, tossing the paper in its pile, as Derek said thunderously, "He's been blaming the smell on us for years, what the fuck!" This sent Stiles into peals of laughter, falling into Derek for a brief second before he straightened up, wiping at his eyes. 

"What do you have?" Stiles asked after getting his breath together. He could feel the line of warmth from Derek's body only inches away from him, and Stiles ran through his usual list of boner killers to get himself under control. 

"Alright, I've got a gem here," Derek said, "so you might as well forfeit." 

"Dude, this was not a competition," Stiles said, shoving Derek's shoulder. 

"That's what losers say," Derek replied playfully. And damn, Derek was not supposed to be cute and smiling and engaging Stiles in this stupid game. Stiles just wanted to kiss Derek all over. 

"Alright, let's hear it, then," Stiles said, crossing his arms. 

"I have with me a note, from one Ms. Kepler of the science department" -

"Dude, no _way_!" Stiles cried, reaching to grab the note. 

"Hold on!" Derek said, holding Stiles at bay with a hand on his chest. It felt like his chest had been branded after Derek removed his hand. "Finstock wrote: 'Kepples, I loved last night. Your lasagna is divine,' with a winky face." 

" _Jesus_ ," Stiles gasped. He was pretty sure he could die happy after hearing Derek say winky face." 

"Apparently, Ms. Kepler replied, 'Thank you - your sausage made a wonderful side dish.'"

"They're flirting with innuendos, I _can't_ ," Stiles wheezed, now fully resting against Derek, which may or may not have been intentional (spoiler: it was). 

"You know, I have Kepler. I guess this explains the pep in her step," Derek mused. 

"Derek, what the _hell_ ," Stiles said, laughing so hard that he was bent double. "Why did that phrase even come out of your mouth?" 

"Well, I figured since we were listening to the Classic 2000's, I'd stay in the theme," Derek replied defensively, but with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

"You are such a dork, man," Stiles sighed, looking up at Derek. Which, he had no idea how his head landed in Derek's lap, but he really didn't feel like leaving. 

Derek smiled down at him, and Stiles felt his heart thumping in his chest like a drum, positive that Derek could hear it. 

"Well, that wasn't the worst thing I've been called today," Derek replied with a small frown. Stiles resisted the urge to smooth out his eyebrows, because once he touched his face Stiles knew he wouldn't stop. Then Derek's words registered, and Stiles recalled Derek's face earlier that day when Finstock called him irreplaceable and felt anger flare inside him. 

"Listen, Finstock's screwed up in the head!" Stiles said, sitting up quickly to face Derek. "I know I'm only a freshmen, and my opinion has no merit, but we would all seriously follow you into any game. Even though you harp like the naggiest mom during practice, you make us improve. When I first started, I ran away from the ball, and couldn't throw worth a damn! And now, I discovered I can use my net as a shield, and I'm getting closer and closer to hitting the actual target, which is a freaking miracle. 

"Just - dude, you are important, and everyone wants to be you or do you, which is pretty impressive, and I don't know what kind of player I would be without your help and" -

And suddenly Derek's lips were on his.

Stiles was frozen, eyes wide open as he took in Derek's face basically on top of his, felt his soft lips against his, and the scratch of his stubble against his cheek. He also felt Derek start to pull away and he grabbed his cheeks, keeping Derek where he was and moving his lips against his. 

Derek groaned, grabbing at Stiles' wrist with a solid hold and pulling Stiles closer with his other hand on Stiles' hips. Stiles felt like his head was going to _explode_ : Derek was kissing him in Finstock's cluttered office in the locker room. This was real. 

Stiles gasped when he felt Derek's hand slip under his shirt, fingers moving small circles on his overheated skin. He clambered onto Derek's lap, dislodging their hands and lips before he pulled them back together, his arms wrapped Derek's neck to dig into his hair. Derek kept his arm wrapped tightly around Stiles' back, alternating between slipping under his shirt and rubbing his hand up and down the span of his back. 

Stiles had to break away, knowing that in order to keep kissing Derek, he had to be conscious. He heaved in breaths as Derek took a different path, kissing a line down Stiles' neck that made him shudder. 

"What is happening?" Stiles sighed, craning his neck back to give Derek more access. 

"You were talking too much," Derek murmured, biting lightly at the base of Stiles' neck. Stiles yelped, pulling at Derek's hair and making him groan. Stiles moaned in response, pulling Derek's lips back up to him. 

Derek moved his hand up to Stiles' jaw, caressing the jaw line softly, tenderly, and Stiles thought his heart might explode. 

"Wait, wait," Stiles said, forcing himself to pull away - and stay away, when Derek tried to follow him. 

"What?" Derek asks, his gaze blatantly on Stiles' lips. 

"This isn't payback for detention, right?" Stiles hated to ask, but he wouldn't put it past some of his teammates, who had done a lot more for a lot less. "Make the freshman cream his pants then leave him high and dry?" 

Derek chuckled softly, tightening his grip on Stiles' waist. "If you knew how much I've been eyeing you this year, you wouldn't be asking me that." 

Stiles was floored. "Why?" was all he could get out around the buzzing in his head. 

"I guess it's that Stilinski charm," Derek replied around a grin, pulling Stiles back to him. Stiles happily welcomed Derek's lips, gripping the front of his shirt tightly. 

Derek pulled away seconds later, dragging a whine from Stiles' throat. "What now?" 

With an unbearable smirk, Derek asked, "Are you really going to cream your pants?" 

This time, Stiles bore his own cheeky look, grinding down on the hard length pressed against his ass, and said, "Keep talking and you won't find out." 

And as it so turned out, Stiles wasn't the only one who got his stride of pride.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> You can also follow me on tumble at savethestiles!


End file.
